


A Question of Space, A Matter of Time

by 12feetdeep



Series: The Hour [1]
Category: The 100
Genre: F/M, Gen, the hour au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4640361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12feetdeep/pseuds/12feetdeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke and Bellamy have been working together for several years now. Now Clarke has been promoted and they are about to embark on a new adventure together.</p><p>The Hour AU. </p><p>That summary is god awful but it's a WIP bare with me :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. #1

**Author's Note:**

> Well... I love The Hour and I love Bellamy and Clarke so this happened. I don't know if it's any good or if anyone will even want to read it but hey, it's been fun to write (mainly because it involved re-watching The Hour. If you haven't watched it please do because it's brilliant although I don't think you necessarily need to to read this??) 
> 
> So I've been a little intentionally vague about the time period because I wasn't sure if I was going to keep in as a 1950's thing or not but yeah this is set in the 1950s. 
> 
> Also the title sucks but I cannot for the life of me think of anything relevant?? 
> 
> I'm still getting the hang of things so the pov's bounce back and forward in this chapter so I hope that's not confusing

Clarke and Bellamy had been friends for years. Enemies for a while in the beginning, both vibrant and competitive young journalists in a small circle of people fighting to get their voices heard. They initially butted heads, making a game out of riling each other up, driving everyone else in their departments mad with their inane arguments, bets and jibes.

Eventually though, they were partnered up for a story, some awful piece about the future of the local dance hall in the face of the modern underground clubs that ‘the youth’ were taken with. It was dreary work and they had spent most of their time making jokes to each other about each god awful person they were forced to interview about the topic, somehow forming a shaky friendship.

Now, it was two years later and they were still working at the corporation, still young and determined and maybe a little less vibrant than they had been. A little of their youthful naivety about spreading the truth to the world had been diminished, but they were both still passionate about their jobs.

~

 

 

Clarke was worried. She should be overjoyed, probably drunk somewhere celebrating the fact that she, a 25 year old female had been given the post of producer on a brand new news segment starting in the fall. Instead she was agitatedly pulling her hands through her perfectly curled hair and pacing blazing trails up and down the office floor. What would Bellamy say when he found out? How on earth was she supposed to tell him? She pushed it all to the back of her mind as she got down to the day’s work, marking it as a problem for later.

 

Later came much sooner than she would have liked and soon she was weaving through the bustling floor of the studio to find Bellamy. She could hear his commanding voice, barking out instructions in a tone that commanded no argument but wasn’t obnoxious about it.

 

He was an arrogant fool of course, but he was good at his job so she supposed he had a right to be. He was bent over a desk, scrawling a note in his chicken scratch hand writing that she always made fun of, announcing the final cutaway of the program while someone else counted down. As they shouted cut, she felt her heart begin to race.

 

“Hello, Princess.” Bellamy greeted her, sending a beaming smile in her direction. “Another day of peddling inane news about debutantes and engagements over, whatever shall we do now?” He asked, pulling on his jacket as they made towards the door.

They were stopped short by the voice of Sinclair.

 

 

“I have a suggestion Blake, how about you do your job?” He called across the room jokingly. “You’re covering that engagement party in Mayfair, remember?”

 

“Oh how could such an exciting prospect have slipped my mind." He called back. "You up for it princess?” He nudged Clarke, wiggling his eyebrows. “Free alcohol, terribly uncomfortable insincere speeches?”

 

She sighed. “I’ll come for one drink but I’m meeting someone later.”

 

“Of course you are, how is the stockbroker?” He asked blandly.

 

“Banker.” She corrected him. “He’s fine. We went out last week; he took me to a French restaurant and then the theater.” She said, proudly.

 

“How fantastic of him.” He replied coolly.

 

They made their way out of the building, grabbing a taxi and weaving through the traffic, eventually meeting their destination.

 

“Don’t even think about drinking too much tonight Bellamy, you have to meet the board at 9am. I want you to meet me in the lobby at 8.30, sharp.” She commanded in a tone that brokered no arguments.

 

“Yes sir.” He said, heading straight to the proffered tray of drinks and immediately downing one. Catching Clarke’s disapproving glare he smirked, grabbing another two, passing her one of them.

 

“Oh come on Princess, how am I expected to make it through this farce with no alcohol? I’ll be there, stop fussing.” He rolled his eyes, throwing his second drink back quickly.

 

“You better be, Bell. This is important.” She wanted to say more. She should have. But she couldn’t find the words and they didn’t have the time to get into it now, she was meeting Steven or was it Scott… at the elevator in five minutes.

 

“Right, I’m gone. The lobby, 8.30 sharp and don’t even think about bringing your manifesto.” She threw him a scolding glare before crossing the room, greeting some tall idiot in a grey suit that probably cost more than three months of his rent with a kiss on the cheek.

 

 

She entered the elevator and Bellamy stood in his place, leaning against a bannister, pretending that he wasn’t watching her leave.

 

~

 

The next morning, he perhaps regretted the mixing of scotch and champagne. His head was not thanking him for it and he barely made out of bed, let alone to the office on time. He was met head on by Clarke steaming towards him, the clicking of her heels echoing in the large lobby, a look of fury on her face.

 

“Eight thirty sharp, I believe I said?” She scolded. “I wanted to talk to you before you went in, now we don’t have time!” She fumed. 

 

“Calm down Princess, it’ll be fine. And when I get the job, I’ll make sure you get the home affairs post, don’t worry.” He smirked smugly at her.

 

She rolled her eyes, walking closer to him and fixing his tie for him. She dusted her hands over his shoulders and gently combed her fingers through the scruffy mess of his hair. He always looked slightly scruffy, hair tousled and clothes a little creased, it suited him, but today he just looked messy and hungover.

 

Bellamy tried to decipher the expression on Clarkes face as she fussed over him, fixing his hair and straightening his tie. It was a look he’d never seen on her face before, and if he was less sleepy, less hungover and had time to dwell on it, it would probably unnerve him. As it was, he had an interview to get to.

 

~

 

“We expect you’d be happy with a place as primary home affairs correspondent?” Anya questioned.

 

“Home affairs? Isn’t that Clarke’s domain?” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to anger the Princess now would I? Anyway, I do better on the front lines.”

 

“So… you think you should be a front of camera man?” Anya asked him, sounding skeptical.

 

“Well yeah. Isn’t that what I’m interviewing for? Presenter…?” He replied, suddenly feeling very ill at ease.

 

“I’m afraid we must have got our wires crossed Mr Blake. Ms Griffin has been appointed producer of the program and we’ve already filled the spot for presenter. Home affairs is of course yours if you want it.” She stared at him over her desk, leaning back casually and she obviously didn’t expect him to refuse her.

 

“Well thank you for your time, Ms Woods, Mr Kane. I’m sorry but I can’t accept. Sinclair, I’ll see you later.” He said, nodding towards his boss and quickly pulling himself out of the chair, swiftly exiting the room without a backwards glance. He threw himself into the closest men's room and tried to take in this new information.

 

He didn’t know how to explain how he was feeling. He was pretty sure that he had a good, if not great, chance at getting a job at Kane’s new program. He wasn’t even annoyed that they had chosen Clarke as a producer and not him.

 

A year or two ago he would have assumed she only got the job because of her connections in the corporation – but he had been working with her for several years now and her talent at her job was totally undeniable. No. It was the fact that Clarke didn’t tell him about it.

 

They were friends, hell he considered her his best friend. He had Miller from his time in the army – there were few things that brought people closer than almost dying together – but he lived on the other side of the city and they didn’t see each other all that frequently. He had his sister of course and she was basically his best friend too – he told her everything and he would do anything for her. There had been a long period of time after he lost his mother that Octavia was literally all he had.

 

And then there was Clarke. She wormed her way into his life and now he couldn’t imagine it without her. And he thought that she at least somewhat felt the same way, but apparently she didn’t even count him as important enough to let him know that she would be running the program for which he was interviewing. She could have prepared him for what he was walking into, but no.

 

He was pacing up and down in the men’s room, trying to get his thoughts somewhat in order, knowing that as soon as he left the room Clarke would be there.

 

~

 

She was waiting for him, sitting perched on the edge of a leather sofa, her ankles crossed and fiddling with the hem of her pencil skirt. She looked nervous. She heard him coming and looked at him sheepishly, not a word often associated with the formidable Clarke Griffin, and slowly stood up and walked towards him warily.

 

“Bell…” She started, but he cut her off with a harsh stare, walking away from her. She caught his elbow in a firm grip and pulled him around to meet her eyes.

 

He started talking before she could say anything.

 

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Clarke?” Bellamy demanded, jumping in before she could say anything. He was aware of how harsh his voice was coming out but he couldn’t care less at this moment.

 

“I’m sorry Bell, I wanted to, I just didn’t know how!” She pleaded. He was still avoiding her eyes, shuffling on his feet not knowing what to do with himself. “I could’ve been better prepared; I could’ve known what I was walking into?” He continued, pacing around her agitatedly.

 

“I know I messed up, but you have a place with us. We need you.” She continued. He rolled his eyes.

 

“Apparently not, I mean apparently you’ve already found your presenter? And it’s not like you need _me_ running home affairs, there’s plenty of other options.” He retorted, turning to leave.

 

“Bellamy, seriously. Just come with us.” She edged in front of him again as he tried to leave.

 

“No thanks Princess, I think I’ll pass.” He spat, storming past her and willing himself to ignore the broken look that he had put on her face.

 

~

 

“Seriously Bellamy, how many more times can I say sorry? I fucked up. The team needs you.” Clarke moaned, leaning herself against his desk as he diligently ignored her presence.

 

“You know better than anyone it’s a pity offer, so no, I can’t.” He replied shortly.

 

Clarke scoffed, her anger starting to build.

 

“Won’t.” She argued stubbornly.

 

“Don’t ask again, it really is getting quite tedious, Clarke.” the venom in his voice building. Clarke knew exactly where this was going, knew that whatever was to come was simply the outcome of his frustration, his need protect himself and his pride, to push her away, but it still hurt and made her furious in equal measure. He was so fucking stubborn.

 

“Your inability to stand on your own two feet, I mean.” He continued, not leaving her a gap to say anything. “Though I suppose that’s what’s to be expected from someone like _you_ ,” He went on, “For all your fighting talk you really are quite hopeless, I mean wasn’t it Mummy that got you this job in the first place? You want to be oh so independent, but you couldn’t cut it alone. Why else would you try so damn hard? All this running around, the kind of men you keep throwing yourself at?” He proposed, the smug smirk on his face showing that he knew he’d hit his mark.

 

Clarke’s vision blurred as her anger soared, her pulse was racing and her fists were clenched, it took all the strength she had in her not to slap the smug look off Bellamy’s face. Instead she took a deep breath, held his gaze with a fire she hoped burned him to the core, she hoped he knew how badly he’d fucked up.

 

She straightened her back, turned on her heel and walked away, her hips swinging. Fuck him. Fuck him if he thinks he can talk to her like that and get away with it.

 

She was the sole producer of The Hour and nothing was going to stop her from making this work, especially not Bellamy fucking Blake.


	2. #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm really enjoying writing this but at the same time I'm really worried that they're too ooc? And I'm hoping it's not just gonna be plotless wank - but yeah I'm out of practice and I'm just gonna go with it.
> 
> Also I'm a little bit at a loss of where to place certain characters in this, so if you have any ideas, feel free to throw them my way! :) 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading.

Later that day Bellamy was still fuming, unsurprisingly. He was ashamed of the things he said to Clarke, but he was still angry. He spent the morning storming around the office, typing slightly more aggressively than necessary and barking at the interns and by 12.00pm everyone in the office had learned that it was best to just avoid him.

Things only deteriorated from there. Sinclair called him into his office to tell him how ashamed he was of how he acted that morning (like he was the only one) and reiterate that an attitude like his wouldn’t be tolerated. He also managed to throw in a nice little comment about how easily replaced Bellamy would be, which was just another wonderful blow to his ego.

Then on his way back from the cafeteria he spotted Clarke in the lobby, beaming at some guy in a fancy suit who may as well have been drooling for how obvious he was being. He rolled his eyes at the sight, watching her as she fake laughed at some (probably terrible) joke just before he saw Mr Kane approach them. Then his stomach dropped. So this was the guy they’d chosen to present Kane's new programme. The one they had chosen over him. Great. 

He was filled with an all too familiar resentment. He could already tell that this guy was privately educated, rich, well connected, _privileged_ and his gut flared with anger. He tried not to let the feeling spread to Clarke but he way she was looking at this guy with his stupid floppy hair (that had that messy hair thing that had clearly been meticulously crafted with the intention of looking casual and untouched. Even that pissed Bellamy off a little just because his hair was a mess no matter what he tried to do with it, Clarke had given up trying to get him to sort it out.) The way he was looking at Clarke pissed him off as well (he tried to chalk it up to protective friend instincts, but really, he wasn't even kidding himself with that one.) 

He steeled himself and walked over to them. Not even attempting to hide his disdain for this guy, whatever his name was. He was soon enlightened.

“Mr Blake? Oh I’m quite the fan of your work! How lovely to meet you.” He said, his voice dripping with charm as he held out a hand for Bellamy to shake. “I’m Finn Collins.” He added, with an air of something that Bellamy made Bellamy think he expected him to recognise his name somehow.

He shook his hand as Clarke stood tensely beside him, her eyes avoiding him completely.

“Mr Collins will be presenting our programme,” Kane explained, looking between Clarke and Collins. “He comes highly recommended, perfect man for the job.” Kane continued happily.

If Bellamy didn’t already know that Kane was an oblivious fool, he would be sure that he was actively trying to be an obnoxious and rub Bellamy's face in it.

“Isn’t that nice.” Bellamy stated cooly. “Well it’s been _just swell_ meeting you," Bellamy drawled sarcastically, "but I have many mediocre local news items to write about, that no one will read.” He commented blandly, walking to the elevator nearby and hammering the button in frustration. 

He felt someone approaching behind him, and of course it was Clarke. She was standing at a firm distance from him, keeping her gaze between the decreasing numbers on the elevator screen and her feet. An eternity later the elevator pinged and they reluctantly stepped in.

They stood in silence for two floors before Clarke spoke, her voice harsh.

“You were a complete asshole out there Blake."

“You sound surprised Princess.” Bellamy scoffed. 

“I’m really not, I just expected better.” She retorted calmly, a note of disapointment in her voice. Something he was too familiar with. 

“Sorry to disappoint. At least you’re with your own _type_ now, I’m sure Mister designer suit out there won’t show you up.” He remarked snidely.

“For fucks sake Bellamy will you stop?" she retorts, her frustration clearly rising. "Finn is more than qualified for the job, he’s charming and the audience will love him.” She explained, exasperated.

“Oh, so you find him attractive. Surprise.” He rolled his eyes. He hadn't exactly meant for that comment to slip out, but of course it had, it was just one of those days. 

Clarke just scoffed in reply before Bellamy continued his rambling. 

“Just a little pathetic, princess. I hope you’ll be very happy together.” He spat sarcastically, telling himself that it was only about the job and not about the way Clarke had been looking at ‘Finn’ that was making him so angry.

“Really, you’re telling me _I’m_ pathetic right now?" She questioned, her hands flailing in exasperation. "You’re the one letting your stubbornness and pride get in the way of a wonderful job opportunity Bellamy. I know it’s not what you had in mind, but it’s a step up, this is exactly what we’ve been working for!” She all but yelled. “But like you requested, I won’t ask again.” She finished sharply, making Bellamy feel another stab of guilt at how he acted this morning. That soon dispersed, he was on the defensive now and being an antagonistic piece of shit came far easier to him than apologising, so on he went. 

“It’s your vanity letting you think that they believe you can do this, you know.” Bellamy called to her as the elevator pulled to a stop and she readied herself to leave.

“Fucking watch me.” Clarke spits, walking out with an exaggerated swing in her hips that was for Bellamy’s benefit, he was sure.

~

It had been just over a week since Clarke and Bellamy had spoken, which in reality wasn’t very long. But in the midst of a bustling newsroom with everything being a collaborative effort, ideas thrown back and forth constantly, Clarke viewed making it this long without speaking to Bellamy as kind of a triumph.

Raven continually eyed her with a sort of knowing disapproval, consistently pushing her to reach out to him and try to offer him the job again, but she refused. She had stooped to tossing papers at his desk unceremoniously without a glance in his direction and sending Jasper, their extremely eager intern, to do any errands for her than involved interaction with Bellamy. Childishness aside, she was rather proud of her efforts.

That was until she saw him on Friday evening. It was Clarke and Raven’s last night in the office and they’d spent the day bustling around, gathering up their belongings and joking raucously with everyone - enjoying the feeling of being about to embark on something new and exciting. Bellamy thundered into the office, almost knocking Jasper off his feet and chucking his satchel on the floor before diving to his desk and delving through the pile of scrap papers and old newspapers looking for god knows what.

She recognised the look on his face - he definitely had some kind of story. This was exactly how he always acted when he latched onto something. The tense determination that barely faltered until he’d wormed his way through anything and everything to find his story, it was something she’d always admired about him. He always managed to find the importance in the unimportant, - a quality that was few and far between in their line of work, with most people latching onto the big, juicy stories they thought would advance their career - whereas Bellamy just wanted the people to know the truth, no matter what that entailed.

He leaned back in his chair relieved, grasping what looked like an insignificant scrap of paper, lifting his telephone and getting down to work.

It hurt Clarke to think about not working with Bellamy anymore. She wasn’t lying when she told him that they needed him, he would be a benefit to any newsroom. He fought for those that couldn’t fight for themselves, he could think on his feet, command a crowd, had the ability to fight to through the rubble to find the stories. She sighed, gathering the rest of her things and chucking them unceremoniously into a crammed cardboard box. Nodding to Raven who was yet again giving her one those ‘I know exactly what’s going on in your mind and I am not impressed’ faces, she quietly made her exit, forcing herself not to look back at Bellamy. If she had she would have found him watching her leave, trying to hide the fact that he was fighting with himself not to run after her.

~

Raven approached Bellamy’s desk, thumping a large measure of whiskey down on his desk and staring at him while leaning against his desk and puffing on her cigarette.

“The cab is leaving in five minutes, stop being such a fucking idiot and be there Blake.” She scolded him, finishing her cigarette and turning away.

He huffed, glaring at the glass as if it is the reason for all of his problems before gripping it and drinking it down. He jumps out of his chair, haphazardly tossing papers, lose pages and scraps into his bag, grabbing his coat and belting out of the room - missing the smug smile plastered on Ravens face as she watched him.

~

He slips quietly into the car, his nerves picking up. He didn’t know what to say or do, half expecting to be greeted with a slap to the face. He was so ashamed of how he acted, wanting to find Clarke and apologise every day since his big mouth got the better of him, but his pride and stupidity stopped him. She was keeping a firm distance from him anyway, so he took that as a hint that it wouldn’t have been taken well if he had bothered.

He sat down on the small pull down seat in front of Clarke and she eyed him suspiciously, glancing between Raven and Bellamy as if expecting some kind of explanation. She received none, huffed and rolled her eyes, she nodded at him - barely discernibly - before turning her attention to the the view of the foggy city whipping by the cab window. He might have been imagining the tiniest of upturns at the corners of her mouth - but whatever. This was definitely better than a slap to the face, so he would take it.

~

They arrived at the building that would pretty much be their new home. It was rather dingy looking on the outside, worn brick and the signs outside scratched up. They exited the car, both Clarke and Raven clutching their precariously stacked boxes of belongings. Bellamy whipped Clarke’s out of her hands just before it toppled to the ground and she went as far as offering him a tiny smile in gratitude. Little by little.

They finally found their way through the maze of identical grey corridors to the studio - following the vague sound of tinkling music.

Raven having disappeared somewhere, probably to hunt down the poor technical assitant who she already had a bone to pick with, Clarke and Bellamy made their way inside. Walking in side by side, they took in the room, filled with lights and wires and all sorts of contraptions that were not so familiar in their newspaper office. They were immediately greeted by an overly large poster, displaying the apparently charming smile (and artfully tousled hair) of one Finn Collins. Bellamy resisted the urge to gag at the sight, the guy looked like he should be standing on your doorstep trying to sell you tupperware instead of delivering the important news of the day.

Too soon the real Finn Collins was standing before them, his all too charming smile in place of course.

“Mr Blake,” Finn says, once again reaching a hand out to shake Bellamy’s, the tooth aching smile still plastered on his face.

“Collins,” Bellamy replied flatly, reluctantly shaking his hand.

“Looking forward to working with you,” Finn added politely. Bellamy had to commend the man for his manners, if Bellamy had come across someone who had acted the way he had towards Finn, he wouldn’t be so inclined to shake hands and exchange small talk.

“At least that makes one of us.” Bellamy muttered, his tone casual, unable to restrain the urge. He heard Clarke’s sharp intake of breathe next to him and immediately regretted it. He was trying to get back on her good side and this probably wasn’t the way to go about it.

Either Finn missed the comment, or decided to ignore it because he made no reply, instead focusing his attention on Clarke. His gaze becoming all the more lecherous and his tone more silky, Bellamy once again fought the urge to gag.

“Ms. Griffin, how lovely to see you again.” He drawled, leaning down to kiss her hand. Clarke nodded politely at him, giving him a small smile before he was (thankfully) called away to the other side of the room, leaving Clarke and Bellamy alone again.

Clarke POV.

They remained quiet, the air between them clearer, but still slightly uncomfortable. They were soon approached by waiters offering trays of drinks, which they gratefully accepted. Settling down at the edge of the room, drinks in hand, Clarke felt her animosity towards Bellamy wane - even despite his little comment to Finn earlier. Honestly she found that kind of funny, watching Finn try to school his features into disinterest while Bellamy just acted like he hadn’t said anything offensive.

He really was a fucking asshole, but she couldn’t imagine attempting to run this thing without him by her side. She had actually begged Kane to have him appointed as co-producer of the show. He refused with some bullshit about Bellamy not being the right kind of person for the position. She saw straight through him. Bellamy was rough on the outside, he came from underprivileged background, he went to a mediocre school, he had raised his younger sister, he was mixed race and had no family connections to speak of. Apparently all of this was far more important to the board than the fact that he was a better journalist than the rest of Kane’s employees put together.

She felt her blood boil as she went over all of this in her head, turning towards Bellamy and watching him as he gazed around the room, taking it all in. She could see the hope in his eyes as he contemplated what they could do here, no longer totally under the thumb of their editors, they had freedom that they hadn’t experienced yet.

He obviously felt her stare, turning to catch her gaze and raising a questioning eyebrow at her. She smiled at him warmly, simply happy to have him here with her even if it was an absolute mess getting to his point. She leans into him, enjoying the warmth radiating from him and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, enjoying the graze of his stubble against her lips and the familiar smell of him. It’d only been a week, but she’d missed him.

She pulled back and caught the familiar smirk aimed at her - the arrogance of it contrasting with the pink tinge building beneath his freckles.

“Welcome aboard comrade,” She stated simply, resting her side against his. She sighed contentedly as he smiled at her genuinely this time. They would find a way to make this thing work, she was sure of it.

~

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
